"What an amazing match to start off with." The tournament bracket appears on the display. "Rookies will be progressing to the next round." Scott's team goes up in the bracket while The Berets's name goes dim.
"I can't wait for our first fight!" Lilee is visibly excited.
"I don't wanna wait. I'd rather get this over with already." Dimas says.
"Come on Dimas. At least we get to watch others fight while we wait for our turn!"
"I couldn't care less about the other fights." Back on Earth, Dimas would show up a couple of minutes before his match would begin and leave immediately after it ended.
"For our next match, we have Carver from 'EDF' versus Clarke from 'The United'. Fighters, please make your way to the arena." The judge says.
Two pink rings appear in the arena. A mean-looking man with short hair and an angry expression steps out from one of the rings. He looked like the type who knew how to hurt someone and wouldn't hesitate to do so. In fact, he reminded Dimas of a bouncer of a bar back in his hometown who would sometimes pick fights with random patrons depending on how he felt that day. From the other steps out a man with a slight hunch and a wooden mask with a few slits that shows little of the man's face.
The display shows a close-up of both fighters with their names underneath them. Carver is the mean-looking man and Clarke was the one with the mask.
Once again, the moustached man holds out the Crild. Carver calls 'Head' but the coin lands on the moon side which means 'Tails'. Carver frowns but Clarke remains perfectly still and focused on Carver. The outcome of the coin toss seems to mean nothing to Clarke.
His lack of movement would be better used in a field as a scarecrow not in an arena. It unnerves some of the audience members. Dimas wonders whether this is an intimidation tactic or just a weirdo who was lucky enough to get this far.
The bell rings and Clarke finally moves. He raises his arm, his hand limp and facing the ground, as he does so every small rock in a two foot radius begins to gravitate towards him.
Carver continues to watch as Clarke is soon surrounded by floating rocks.
"It's going to take more than a rock shield to stop me, freak!" Carver taunts Clarke. Carver squats and his skin begins to glow.
Clarke, almost as if responding to Carver, raises his hand with his fingers pointing at Carver.
As soon as Clarke's fingers fully extend, the floating rocks hurl themselves towards Carver. The weaker rocks explode upon impact, the stronger ones bounce off, each one leaves Carver with damage.
Carver's skin goes back to normal. Whatever his Brío is, it requires concentration. Something Clarke won't be allowing.
Carver grits his teeth, he crosses his arms in front of him, letting his arms take the blunt of the damage. There's nothing he can do but endure the bombardment of rocks. He thinks eventually the rocks will run out and when they do, he'll pay back every hit. Unfortunately for Carver, the chances of that happening were slim.
While Clarke's supply of rocks is indeed limited and depleting at a rapid rate, he's able to resupply by taking a few steps forward. Any rock that enters his area of influence becomes another projectile at his disposal. Had the arena been free of any debris, Clarke would've been at a serious disadvantage and the match would've played out differently. Carver wishes this was the case. He also wishes there was something he could do to stop the endless pelting. It was bearable at first but now the rocks were hitting open wounds and beaten flesh.
Ding!
The sound is higher pitched than the usual bell used for the fights.
"What's that bell for?" Dimas asks.
"It means Clarke can call for his support." Lilee answers.
[Which means Carver's been under attack for 5 minutes straight… It probably feels like forever to him.]
Dimas couldn't have been more right. Carver couldn't believe that only five minutes had passed. And Clarke showed no sign of stopping or slowing down.
Clarke stood less than a foot from Carver. At this range, the stones were hitting harder than before and any rock that survived the impact would immediately float back into position.
"Is this really how you want to win!? Like a coward!?" Carver yells.
Clarke continues his attack, eyes empty of mercy. He doesn't care how he wins, his opponent could be a child and he still wouldn't hold back. Even if his opponent were to cry and whimper, Clarke would not stop until he was named the winner.
Carver's arms go numb from the pain and he becomes woozy. As much as he didn't want to give Clarke a flawless victory there was only one way to end this.
"I yield!" Carver shamefully yells out.
The bell rings and Clarke ceases his attack immediately.
"The winner of this round is Clarke!" The judge declares.
Clarke silently walks through the ring to his room.
Carver stands there, blood pouring from his various wounds, ashamed of his surrender.
"I feel bad for Carver." Lilee says.
"Even if he won that fight, he would've lost against me." Dimas says. "Now, I gotta figure out a strategy against Clarke."
"I can throw rocks at you as practice." Lilee jokes.
"How fast and hard can you throw?" Dimas actually considers the offer.
"It was a joke!"
"And yet, it's the only good idea you've had."
Lilee gets ready to argue but the moustached man begins to speak. "Carver was unable to escape from Clarke's attack and ended up throwing in the towel. The United will be progressing to the next round." Clarke's team goes up in the bracket.
The moustached man reaches into the marble bag and pulls out the next matchup. "As luck would have it, our next match will determine who will face off against The United in the next round. Dimas from Corvus and Daniel from The Dark Assault, please make your way into the ring!"